Gothic Words Novels & Stories

Twenty-six, with a curvy body she usually hid under oversized sweaters, soft pale skin, and long auburn hair that fell in waves down her back, she lived alone in her grandmother’s old Victorian house on the outskirts of town. Tonight, bored and a little tipsy from red wine, she’d found the old leather-bound book. Ars Goetia scrawled on the cover in faded gold. Flipping through it for fun, she’d traced a strange sigil with her finger while muttering the Latin words under her breath, thinking it was all ridiculous nonsense. The candles flickered violently. The air grew thick, heavy with the scent of smoke and something darker, sulfur and sweet musk. A low chuckle echoed through the room.

Questions crowded her mind, each one fighting for attention, but they all died as a sound filled the clearing that made every hair on her body stand on end. Words in a language she didn't know poured from somewhere in the clearing, harsh and guttural and fundamentally wrong. "Accipe oblationes meas, o tenebrarum dominus... sanguine innocentium te voco... per umbras et mortem, exaudi me..." The syllables scraped against her ears like broken glass, and each word seemed to pulse with dark energy that made her skin crawl and her wolf whine in distress. The ancient tongue twisted through the air, corrupting it, making even breathing feel like swallowing poison.